


The Stranger

by MrsSaxon



Category: Pilgrimage (2017), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: ...not that I'm positive there's much difference between them, But basically it's time scooped Kastle, Crossover, Except Frank is really the Mute, F/M, Fluff, In an effort to hype up that movie, Kastle in the 13th century, No idea how accurate any of this will turn out to be, Scars, Slow Burn, So I started writing this before Pilgrimage came out, The Mute, kastle - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 18:36:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11606556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsSaxon/pseuds/MrsSaxon
Summary: Strangers aren't usually this nice... or this quiet





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> What can I say, I have a weakness for hyping shit that isn't out yet. We'll just see what happens, NO idea where this will go.

Storms and pregnant cattle were never a good mix. Karen could hear the agitated lowing from her house, she better go out and settle her before night truly fell. Taking the biggest stick from the wood pile to guide her way, Karen hiked up the rocky path to her family’s little barn. It was almost too dim to see by the time she got there, she should have taken a candle. But, well… it wasn’t like candles just grew on trees.

Once inside, she found her little brown cow turning round and around her stall, kicking up hay. “Shhh, shh, it’s just a storm,” Karen murmured, reaching for the cow’s wet, curious nose and laying her stick to one side. Her cow turned to her, but its eyes rolled away, caught on some movement… did that shadow just change? Karen grabbed her stick, raising it to eye level like a weapon. The last thing she needed in here would be visitors, whether pests, predators, or worse.

Karen made to step forward carefully, eyes as wide as she could make them to catch anything solid in the darkness. But before her foot fell, the shadows moved again, reared actually, revealing an enormous, hulking mass. Karen stumbled back, prayers flying through her head, but she uttered not a sound. Instead she gripped her stick fiercely in front of her, prepared to fight the approaching figure.

The figure did not come quickly, unsure of their relative position in the dark. Not a wolf then, wolves saw perfectly well in the dark, and, besides which, had glowing eyes. This mass slid against the stall, she could hear it, and she moved to block their way to the door. The figure slowed even more in response to her defensive movements. If this was a raider, Karen wondered why he did not just kill her and be done with it. There was no reason to make a fair fight of it. She kept her stick up, tightly gripped; she wasn’t taking any chances on doubt. Perhaps he was merely wounded and waiting until she was within arm’s reach to strike.

Karen dared wonder if she opened the door to hope for enough light to make out her opponent, or run back to her house for the axe. That was assuming this figure did not run after her. Just as she was readying herself for the decision though, the storm broke, a bolt from the sky lingered long enough that light passed through the slats of the barn, revealing her adversary. It was a man, albeit a _huge_ man, with a face like a bear, all covered in black fur. Yet, his eyes were almost as wide and scared as hers were. And his hands were held out in front of him, weaponless, spread, as if to beg her to spare him. Karen felt like screaming anyway.

The light faded and once again they were in darkness, no ground gained or lost, her cow still shuffling in its stall, uncertain.

“ _Cé tusa?_ ” Karen croaked, jerking her stick at him, perhaps the movement was visible.

There was no response, not even a whisper of movement.

She swallowed and tried again in English, “Who are you?”

Still nothing, although now there was a slight movement, a soft step forward. Was she to take this to mean he understood English better than Irish? This was hopeless. She needed light. She needed sound. Anything. She would have no idea what she was up against until then. Dare she trust the will of a silent stranger and risk some vulnerability? To his credit, he had not tried to harm her, or her cow it seemed.

Left without options, she backed against the door and opened it, a faint shine of light seeping in from the yellow sky and drizzling rain. She could just make out the toes of his boots. “If you want to stay here to wait out the storm, you can,” she ventured.

The man shuffled into the light and nodded to her. So he did understand English.

“Don’t upset my cow anymore or I’ll be back, this time with an axe,” she warned.

The man’s eyes widened and he shook his head. Karen took this to mean he had no intentions of upsetting her cow.

“Good,” she replied. Well. That was all they need interact. Hopefully he was just some strange, mute wanderer, someone who got lost and needed shelter. He’d be gone by morning and she’d think no more about it. Count her lucky stars that neither she nor her cow had been harmed. She turned away from him, halfway out the door, before muttering, “Good night,” to him and closing the door firmly behind her. It had just… been a long time since she’d said good night to anyone.

She walked back down the rocky path, getting soaked along the way, and resolved to think no more about the sudden stranger in her barn. He’d be gone by morning. When she checked, she was sure she wouldn’t find him. And checking was an entirely reasonable reaction to this situation. Had to be sure he was gone, hadn’t taken anything, after all. And then she wouldn’t wonder about him again.


	2. Chapter 2

At least the rain had passed with the night. Karen dressed herself and rose to tend her cow. Her thoughts did not immediately stray to the stranger from last night.

The rocky way up the path to her barn was now slick with mud. She slipped, smearing mud on her boots and calves. The dress would need heavy washing. She sighed, annoyed with herself, but made it up the rest of the way without incident.

Her cow was oddly quiet this morning. Normally, she heard its mooing with first light, the reminder to be fed and milked. But there was no routine greeting this morning. She started to frown, but she was not quite suspicious there was anything foul afoot. It would make no sense. Nonetheless, she opened the door to the barn cautiously, unsure now of what she would find.

In the morning light, she saw her cow, quite contentedly having its ears scratched by the stranger. He looked up when the door opened and he nodded to her, stepping politely back from her cow.

“I wondered why she wasn’t moaning,” Karen nodded, closing the door behind her, “Surprised to see you’re still here.”

The enormous man looked around sheepishly. He scratched the back of his neck and stepped further away.

Karen, however, stepped further into the room, grabbing her milking stool and taking a large, clay pitcher to try some milking. She noticed he backed away from her as she stepped closer, but it was only a little barn and he was at the wall by the time she reached the stall and entered it.

“Do you want to tell me what you’re doing here or are you just going to keep standing there, silently?” she addressed him, but did not look at him, focusing instead on sitting down to milk.

No answer was forthcoming.

“Yeah, I didn’t really expect you to start talking now just because it was light out,” she sighed, pulling the teats in her hands, “Well, if you had somewhere to be, you’d have been gone by now.” She glanced at him to check her assessment. He nodded after a moment, his eyebrows quirked like he wasn’t quite sure what to make of her.

Milk was slow to come, she was saving up for her baby, but Karen coaxed a few drops out of her. “I’ll need to check around, make sure you didn’t take anything,” Karen explained, focusing on her cow again, “but since you’ve nowhere to go, you can make yourself useful around here.” She assiduously did not look at him until her periphery caught movement. He was nodding, enthusiastically, his shaggy black hair shook with it.

Karen swallowed. “I can’t… pay you, but you can sleep here. And I’ll feed you, if you help me run this farm.” The milk was drying up now and her cow was getting anxious to be let out to graze. Karen stopped and picked up her pitcher and stool and set them outside the stall before exiting herself. She gave the stranger a good long while to think about it, if he truly had no other prospects than this.

He was still standing at the back, right up against the wall, regarding her quietly. In the light she could make out more of his face. It looked battered, like he had been through some form of hell. But also kind. His eyes had a light in them; it shone every time he looked at her, told her that he was listening, that he was thinking. She wondered what thoughts he might have, if he had a voice to speak them.

He raised an eyebrow and Karen realized she’d been staring. She dropped her head, clearing her throat loudly. “Um… what do you say? Or, in your case, intimate,” she grimaced, “will you stay?”

He blinked at her, then nodded, stepping off the wall and, cautiously, walking towards her. He offered his hand, as large and strong as the rest of him. Karen frowned at it, then slowly realized it was to shake, to bind their contract. He’d stay and help her and not steal, she would let him stay and feed him. Simple enough. She took his hand and let him pump it up and down, unsure what she was supposed to do in this matter. After a few awkward moments, she looked up at him and he released her hand again, nodding to himself that this compact was satisfactory.

She nodded too. “Good.”


End file.
